Seven dragons cross the sky
their breath is hot against the wind
seven dragons, serpents all
calling out across the universe
It’s the full life of winter’s blustery height
ice and flurry and sharp-scented cold
could be mistaken for nature’s call to death
but it’s character, soft landscape, chill flame.
Did I meet you in that little shop
where the book of love is kept behind the counter?
Impossible except our names are there
Father, I watch you poised beside the bed
trembling against your metal walker
gathering strength for the grand move
to the dressing table across the room.